


Over the Edge

by aliaoftwoworlds



Series: Bitter Retribution [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Civil War Team Iron Man, Gen, Not Steve Friendly, Steve and Tony appear only briefly, also a brief anti-wanda moment, poor Bucky doesn't deserve this but here we are, the team iron man stuff is vague but all of my stories are team iron man on principle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 05:32:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16382333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaoftwoworlds/pseuds/aliaoftwoworlds
Summary: An unhappy alternate to the CW ending, where Bucky is a little closer to the edge of breaking down than anyone thinks, and managing to break away from his conditioning once doesn't mean everything is fixed. In betraying one friend, Steve also destroys another.





	Over the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn’t supposed to be next in line for this series, but I was contacted by fanficdoc on tumblr, a group creating a documentary about fanfiction, and asked to contribute something to the collection These Stories Belong to Us. Since last weekend was my last weekend of freedom before the all-consuming Surgery rotation and I’ll have basically no time for anything but school and regretting my life choices for the next two months, I decided to use that last bit of time to write this one instead of the next story I had planned, since this is much shorter than Revenge Fantasy is going to be. The order of the stories doesn’t really matter, so really, it makes no difference to you guys, just to me. So enjoy! 
> 
> I apologize in advance for being so awful to poor Bucky here, he doesn’t deserve this just because Steve is an asshole. The story is kind of an exploration of Bucky and the Winter Soldier more than it is a directly bitter angry result of CW, but there’s definitely enough bad consequences for Steve here (and ones that are his own fault) for it to qualify for the series.

The Winter Soldier isn’t easy to describe. For the short period of time that Bucky has been in control again, he’s thankful that no one has asked him about the Soldier. Not much, anyway. The muscle-bound former target— _Steve_ , the long-buried part of his mind keeps having to remind him—hesitantly asked, once or twice since the disaster in Romania, whether he was back in control again. He meant _Bucky_ , the one he cares about, of course, though he didn’t bother specifying. But he didn’t ask for details. He accepted the grunted one-word answers, because that was what he wanted to hear.

Steve doesn’t see anything but what he wants; doesn’t see anyone but the long-lost friend who’s now long gone. A tiny part of _Bucky_ , the rational part of him that can take control and make his own decisions and who’s tentatively in charge for now, is all that’s left of the guy Steve used to know. Steve doesn’t understand the details of the Winter Soldier or the brainwashing or what happened to make him break HYDRA’s control. He never really asked, not that Bucky could have given him solid answers anyway. Their one attempt at communication on the subject ended with Steve assuming, incorrectly, that Bucky’s choice to save him was a reflection of his deep friendship and returned memories. Bucky didn’t know how to tell him that wasn’t true, so he just stayed silent. But Steve just sees what he wants, and he thinks that the ability to defy an order to murder someone means that the personality and memories and _life_ that were scrubbed away from Bucky over decades are just hiding behind the shell of the Soldier, waiting to burst free with enough encouraging words from his former friend.

The others, the man who flies and the little witch and the two new ones they pick up in Germany, they’re appropriately wary of Bucky. They don’t trust him—as well they shouldn’t—and they tread carefully around him, like he might break down into the Soldier any minute. Which he might. The others are facing the reality that Steve refuses to: that they don’t understand exactly how the Soldier works or how Bucky is able to take control back, and therefore they can’t know how or when he might revert again and attack all of them.

The last part is the only part they’re wrong about. If Bucky disappears, relinquishes control to the Soldier again through trigger words or just his own exhausted defeat, the Soldier won’t attack them, not unless he’s ordered to or he’s attacked first. What they don’t understand about the Soldier is that he isn’t violent, not inherently. He’s just blank, a blank slate awaiting instructions, who happens to have the strength and skills to carry out the most violent, depraved, disgusting orders, and with enough of himself erased to not be held back by the emotions that would prevent another person’s utter compliance with those orders. In other words, the perfect HYDRA soldier—the perfect Asset.

Their other misconception is that Bucky and the Soldier are two different people, and that having one or the other take control is like flipping a switch. Bucky may think of it that way in his mind, sometimes, because it’s easier than facing the truth, because it makes it easier to cling to the tiny bit of humanity he still has left, but it’s not that simple.

The others can’t imagine what he’s been through. Even Steve, who has existed long past the lifetime he should have had, spent most of that frozen solid and experiencing nothing. None of them, for all their attempted sympathy or understanding, can come close to comprehending what HYDRA did to him, how patient and how utterly thorough they were in stripping him bare, in destroying what makes him human and independent. His memories, his emotions, his personality, all destroyed methodically and without mercy.

He’s not sure how he managed to retain that tiny bit that constantly defied them and that recognized Steve back on that bridge. The little bit of him that can still think logically strengthened itself when he was in Romania hiding out, when he actually had a stretch of time to be on his own and in his own control. He’d formed a vague theory that maybe his personality and emotional capacity and all the other things that those bastards had ripped out of him are capable of coming back, repairing themselves, as long as they’re given some time.

He has no way of testing it, but it would fit with what he understands of himself and the Soldier. Though in his own independent mind he thinks of the Soldier as a separate entity, he’s really not. He’s the result of Bucky being unable to withstand what was being done to him. When the careful mental manipulation and the drugs and the outright torture stripped away what made him himself, HYDRA started introducing pain with commands in an unholy combination that, after some trial and error, was just enough to solidify in his mind that absolute, blank obedience was the best way to survive.

So his mind took that and did what it could: it shut down. It protected that tiny bit of humanity that was left by forcing it to go dormant, because HYDRA didn’t care about what wasn’t active, what they couldn’t see interfering with their missions, their Asset. Instead, what was left was a protective nothingness, and that emptiness is what everyone calls the Winter Soldier. It’s Bucky, it really is, his own brain working, his own body moving. When he’s the Soldier, he’s capable of accessing his own memories, though without the emotions associated with them. He simply sets aside _himself_ to obey whatever orders he’s given, because he was trained through decades of hardship to understand that that’s the best—the only—option when he’s faced with problems. HYDRA may have protected their investment with the trigger words that force that nothingness into him, but there are plenty of other ways to bring out what he calls the Soldier.

Both of the states of his mind; the remaining, weakly struggling spark of independence that used to be Bucky Barnes and the blank, obedient Soldier that kept him alive through nearly unimaginable horrors, they’re dynamic. Not so much fighting for dominance in his mind as trying to fit together, find their own space. Bucky understands that without the Soldier, he wouldn’t be alive, and he knows that the Soldier is the best choice to protect what’s left of him when things go south. But likewise, the Soldier himself doesn’t know how to make decisions, not big ones. Nothing outside the mission parameters. He can plan the best way to get into a highly secured building and kidnap a politician’s infant daughter to use as leverage against him, or make the right moves to blend into a crowd and swiftly inject an untraceable poison into an arms dealer before he even knows what happened, but when it comes to things like which side to fight on, or what to do about the big blond with the sad eyes who calls him by a long-dead nickname, he’s lost. He needs Bucky for that.

But Bucky underestimated the demands that would be on him if he let himself take over again. When Steve returned and broke him away from HYDRA, he’d thought it was clear enough to come out again, to let that tiny remaining bit of Bucky back to the surface to grow and make decisions again. And he did that, in Romania, at least a little bit. He constantly had to look over his shoulder, had to be ready to let the Soldier take over at a moment’s notice, but he was becoming more confident in doing the little things that independent life required, things that the Soldier couldn’t do on his own.

Then Steve came bursting violently back into his life again. Bucky knows, from what Steve tells him and from the few flashes of old memories that he’s managed to retain, that Steve should mean a lot to him, and he should feel happy when Steve is around. But he doesn’t. Since breaking away from HYDRA, Steve has meant nothing to him but confusion and pain and violence, always more violence. Steve thinks he’s helping by attacking people to keep them away from Bucky, and maybe he is, but what he doesn’t understand is that with every punch, every jolt of adrenaline, he’s chipping away at that little bit of _Bucky_ that’s now out in the open and exposed in his mind.

If he’s not careful, that bit of Bucky will shatter completely.

Maybe the rest of his life is doomed to be violent. If that’s the case… he doesn’t know how long this can go on. HYDRA may not have completely erased Bucky Barnes, but they’ve successfully destroyed his ability to deal with pain and fighting and the prospect of physical battle. He doesn’t know what to do in those situations anymore except to panic and retreat, to let the Soldier take over, because every bit of pain is too much like the Chair and the drugs and the “doctors” who came to teach him that the answer to hurting is to become blank and obedient.

Bucky doesn’t know how to tell Steve that, because Steve doesn’t understand what’s wrong with him, and he doesn’t listen the one time that Bucky tries to explain. He refuses to hear anything but what he wants to, just tries to reassure Bucky that they’ll “figure things out,” as though there will be some magical solution out there to what HYDRA did to him. Steve doesn’t realize that in his efforts to protect Bucky, he’s just making things worse.

The company he keeps doesn’t help. The others, they’re dressed for battle, always on edge, ready to fight. The man with the wings just looks to Steve for advice on battle, talks of nothing but action plans. The one with the bow who joins them in Germany spits nothing but insults, against people Bucky doesn’t know and doesn’t care about, but the attitude puts him on edge. He barely notices the other man, but the woman… the witch. More than anything, the witch makes him want to _run_ , because he can remember when HYDRA used people like her to help take him apart, and because the others might be blind to it, but Bucky can see that there is nothing in her black soul but hatred and joy at other people’s pain. She’s unstable and if Bucky were coherent enough to judge, he’s sure he’d call her evil.

The Soldier had to be kept up on the times at least a little bit for missions, to blend in. He knows who the Avengers are, who Iron Man is. He knows they’re supposed to be the good guys, and he doesn’t understand why they’re fighting against them, against people who seem to want to help. Steve had said, earlier, that the others would help them, but then he’d said something about the UN and a document that was forcing them to fight each other, and Bucky’s too busy fighting to keep the calm in his own mind to pay much attention.

He does pay attention in the fight in Germany, because he’s still conflicted, whatever Steve tries to tell him, about fighting people who are known to be superheroes. When the stranger in the full-body suit actually stops the metal arm cold, it feels like everything in Bucky stops with it. He’s never encountered anyone before who could stop the force of that arm so… effortlessly, and someone so physically small, too. Then to hear that voice and realize that he’s fighting a _child_ … that right there is almost enough to break him. He’s threatened and injured and killed plenty of children as the Winter Soldier, but not as Bucky. The Soldier took care of those things for a reason, because the emotionless Asset that HYDRA commanded was capable of doing those things, and Bucky, with all those pesky emotions weighing him down, wasn’t. Now that Bucky is back in charge, he can’t do that again.

He doesn’t need to, in the end, but the idea of it sits heavy in his gut. He manages to force out a few words in the plane they steal, telling Steve that he’s not worth all of this. It’s the only way he can manage to try to tell Steve that he’s close to the edge, that one more push might just be the thing that destroys what’s left of the friend Steve actually cares about and leaves nothing behind but the blank shell that Steve is repulsed by. Steve’s reaction, that well-intentioned but ultimately meaningless reassurance, is too predictable to disappoint him.

He’s in turmoil, because he knows the other Soldiers are dangerous and they need to be stopped, but he’s in a precarious position. He realized sometime during the fight in Germany, when the Soldier should have come out to protect him but didn’t, that he’s stuck where he is. That fragile piece of Bucky that’s left is now in control, permanently, until he either gets himself together or breaks thoroughly enough that there’s nothing left except the Soldier. Unfortunately, he’s pretty sure which is the more likely option of the two. And going to face more Soldiers isn’t going to help. The reminder of HYDRA and what was done to him, directly facing what will happen to him if he lets his spark of independence be crushed, could very well be enough to end him, but it’s necessary and he knows it.

He’s more tightly wound than he thinks he’s ever been when they start exploring the bunker. He’s expecting attacks from multiple angles any minute, he knows this has to be a trap of some kind, and every bit of logical instinct he has left is screaming at him to just _get out_ , but he can’t, not until he knows that the other Soldiers have been taken care of.

The man in the armor shows up and for a few moments, Bucky thinks that this is it, this is the trap he could sense. He’s gearing himself up already for another fight, and the wave of relief when Iron Man says he’s there to help them just twists Bucky’s fragile emotional state even more.

The real trap is worse than he could have thought.

He’s been trying to steel himself for a fight, for the simplicity of more violence. He’s been readying himself for the inevitable fight with the Soldiers or with HYDRA. He’s starting to think that he might actually be able to handle it without shattering into a thousand pieces when the trap closes in on them, in the form of a video, and the sudden realization of the identity of Iron Man, and a tidal wave of memories that he couldn’t suppress even if he had all the will and power of the original Bucky Barnes.

_Mission report, December 16, 1991._

_The car approaching. Leveling the gun, shooting out the tires—the car crashes, that’s excellent, HYDRA will be pleased. Injuries will not be suspicious, consistent with auto accident._

_Occupant stirring, alive, eliminate target. No witnesses. HYDRA will take care of the rest. Retrieve the vial. Fulfill mission parameters._

_Pleading, which is ignored. A name the Asset doesn’t recognize, a plea for assistance, not for himself, but for the other. Second witness. Complicates things more. Elimination of both required._

_The crunch of bone as the face gives way. The human skull really is fragile, and it’s nothing to hard metal, driven forward with purpose._

_The thud of the body as it hits the ground. Target eliminated. Secondary goal: eliminate witness. A woman, trapped in the car. No threat at all. A hand around her throat, feeling the frantic pulse in the neck, crushed like it’s little more than paper, barely any effort required. Secondary goal achieved._

_Mission objective: retrieve cargo. Taken from trunk of car. Eliminate further witnesses. One roadside camera—aim, and a single shot. Mission success. Return cargo immediately to HYDRA._

…

Bucky remembers the pleading, now. The name—his own. Howard Stark, someone he’d once considered if not a friend, at least friendly. His wife, an innocent, guilty of nothing but being a witness to the Winter Soldier and marrying a man who carried such precious cargo. 

And Bucky remembers, now, what else he knows about them. A son, young, on the cusp on adulthood. No older than Bucky when he was sent to war. Orphaned by the Winter Soldier, and despite that horror, now grown into a good man, a hero, standing before him and watching this video with all the grief and pain that Bucky is no longer capable of feeling without breaking. 

It all happens too fast. The realization paralyzes him; he can’t deal with this. He could have convinced himself to fight this man if he hadn’t remembered who he was. But HYDRA’s orders are in his mind, echoing, the video too much, one second he’s back on that road and the next he’s here in the bunker facing the man he orphaned. He can’t do this, he can’t fight Howard Stark’s son. But Steve is ready to fight, they’re talking and the tone is angry and tense but the words don’t penetrate the fog Bucky is stuck in.

Then Steve is flying, struck, and the helmet is coming down, the grief and pain shut away behind a cold iron mask. Iron Man is coming for him, he has no choice but to defend himself or die, and he can’t do this, can’t fight here, this is too much. It’s not a choice, there’s simply no other way to go. 

There is no choice but to defend himself. It’s cold, a cold winter road. _Mission parameters: retrieve cargo_. No, defending himself. Steve… Steve is fighting the man—the target. Stark. _Howard Stark. Carrying cargo of great importance to HYDRA. Mission objective: retrieve cargo. Eliminate witnesses_. Eliminate—eliminate target. A new mission. One mission too many; Bucky can’t handle another mission, another order from HYDRA. That’s the Soldier’s job. But the Soldier can’t come out unless Bucky moves, retreats, and he doesn’t remember how to do that.

He shatters.

…

 

…

There is an empty space in the mind, a void where there wasn’t one moments before, but it isn’t hard to fill. It comes naturally. The nature of the void and the need to fill it can be contemplated later, once the mission is complete. The body needs work, not as well conditioned as it was in its peak. But there is an enhancement that makes everything easier, and the metal arm is a tool that can be used in many ways. Assessment of the situation is almost instantaneous. Attacker approaching. Too close for immediate retreat. Fight inevitable; protect the physical Asset until mission parameters can be outlined. 

Another person—enemy? No, fighting the attacker. Will attempt to incapacitate attacker and escape. Environment unsuitable for prolonged battle. Enemy encased in strong armor—remove if possible.

Words exchanged, between the others. No orders given. Continue battle, continue to protect physical body. More words, a question, addressed to the Asset. “Do you even remember them?” 

Not an order, but close enough. The Asset answers questions as well as it takes orders. The immediate memory is searched. A video, a past mission. Question unclear—referring to all previous missions or only the specific mission shown on video? The Asset is capable of recalling all previous missions. “I remember all of them.” 

Armored opponent cannot be defeated as is. Must find a way to disable armor. In the chest, glowing: power source. Removal will likely aid in ending fight. New objective: destroy armor power source at all costs.

The metal arm is severed. The Asset goes down, out of commission in the fight. Unacceptable. Pain can be ignored, but feedback from the severed arm is corrupting the system, rendering movement nearly impossible. The fight continues, the opponent and the other battling. Round shield used to attack opponent. The Asset must continue to watch the fight, to give a full mission report if asked. 

Perceived objective of third party: eliminate armored opponent. Opponent down, armor crushed, helmet removed and exposed head repeatedly struck. Blood flying, dripping. Shield raised. Strength of third party judged sufficient to cleanly sever neck of opponent. Power source destroyed instead. Approximate chance of death of occupant of armor due to injuries sustained: 80% within eight hours. Revised: armor is also method of travel, now compromised. If no secondary escape route from this bunker, hostile weather conditions will hasten death.

Third party is approaching the Asset. The Asset is pulled up, removed from bunker. Armored opponent no longer in sight. Severed arm left behind with shield previously used to bludgeon opponent—motives of third party for abandoning valuable weapon unclear. 

More words spoken, but not to the Asset. No orders given, no mission parameters outlined. Objectives of escape from bunker and incapacitation of opponent: successful. Will revise if necessary with new information.

Another question from the third party. “Bucky? Are you okay?” When it is ignored, the third party turns. “Bucky?”

It is clearly addressed to the Asset. “Bucky” accepted as new form of address. Language: American English. New handler accepted. “Ready to comply.”

An unexpected expression. Panic, fear, concern. “Bucky? Tell me you’re in there.”

New form of address accepted. “Bucky is ready to receive mission parameters.”

A shake of The Asset’s—Bucky’s—shoulders. “Oh God, Bucky, tell me you’re okay. Please tell me you’re in there.”

Request for status understood. “Bucky is functioning below peak performance.” A glance down at what remains of the metal arm. “Replacement parts required for full functioning.”

A reproachful look. “You’re not Bucky. You’re… the Winter Soldier. The _Asset_.” Name revision accepted. “Where’s Bucky— _my_ Bucky? What happened to you, the real you, the _person_ in there?” Another shake of the Asset’s shoulders, desperation in the expression of the third party.

The Asset does not understand the question. A search through recent experiences reveals another presence, in control of the body, a fragile thing that was crushed by the uncertainty of emotional turmoil and distress. Problems which do not bother the Asset. The shattered dust of the other personality has drifted away. A more thorough search of memories reveals frequent attempts by handlers to erase the other presence. Success achieved.

“The Asset will no longer need recalibration. The… interference is gone. Only the Asset remains.”

The other man sobs. His hands go to his hair, and he begs for “Bucky.” The Asset does not understand the display, and stays quiet. Several minutes pass by. The Asset waits; no mission parameters have been given. The other man moves forward, again, in desperation. Hands on the Asset’s face, calling again for Bucky, but speaking to the Asset. “Please, talk to me. You have to be there. Please, say something. _Anything_.” A command.

There is only one answer for the Asset. That is how survival is achieved. “Ready to comply.”


End file.
